Australian Tales - Setis

down beside the hedge, I want to say summat to thee very particular; and
I can say it best now thee can't see my face. Phoebe, I tell thee what it is,
I love thee loike a man, an' no mistake about it. If thee wull have me for
a husband one of these days, I'll do all that a true heart and honest hands
can do to make thee happy, and to keep a good whoam for thee. Say the
word, will thee have me, Phoebe? Dos't thee love me? Now's the time to
own it; don't ee be ashamed. Speak up, lass! One word from thee will
make me as proud as the governor, though I be standing on my head in a
brier bush.”
“Oh, Jonathan! I can't say anything about it just now; I feel so flurried
and tusselled. Don't ask me now, there's a good man,” said Phoebe,
looking as confused as if the cow was coming again full gallop.
“Then doan't ee try to get me out of this hedge, lass. I doan't want to
coom out if thee won't have me. Just go straight whoam, like a good girl,
and let the magpies eat me. Give me love to thee feyther and brother
Bob. Send my money that's in the Savings' Bank home to my mother,
and thee may have all my traps, lass. Don't forget to tell measter that
Billy's off hind shoe be's loose; and that Mr. Nackrum, the omnibus
owner, owes for the last load of green barley.”
“Oh, Jonathan!” said Phoebe, softening to tears, “how can you talk so
strangely. Let me help you out; I'll soon cut away these sticks. Do for my
sake come out of the hedge, there's a dear man! Don't stand there on your
head any longer; it will curdle your brain like sour milk, and turn your
heart upside down.”
“Wull thee have me then, Phoebe?” asked Jonathan, in a more lively
tone, “say the word, lass; yea or nay; out with it honestly.”
“Ye — yes, I will, Jonathan,” said Phoebe, tremulously. “I will have
you for ever; for I love you dearly. If father doesn't say nay, I will be
your wife by-and-by, and love you as long as I live.”
“Bravo, Phoebe! I'll kiss thee as soon as I get out of this trap. Go to
work, lass, and cut away some of this outside wood; but mind thee
doesn't prick thee fingers. Here's my pruning knife close beside my nose,
it tumbled out of my pocket; hook en' out with summat. Thee be'ist a
brave girl sure enough! Codlins! how I love thee!”
Phoebe hooked out Jonathan's knife from the bush, with the handle of
her parasol, and went to work like a skilled hedger, while he plied her
with compliments and promises of future payment. In a short time she
had cut a great gap in the hedge; then taking hold of her lover's boots, she
gently lowered him to the ground, when he wriggled himself out safe and
sound except a few scratches on his hands and face, a thorn in his nose,
and some trifling damage to his hat.
“Phoebe, thee beest the prettiest maid I ever see'd,” said Jonathan,
warmly, as soon as he had straightened himself up, “I love thee better
than I love my life. Bless thee, lass, give us a buss! Never mind if them